


Hunger

by RoseMaryImagination



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Possibly Pre-Slash, Season/Series 06 Spoilers, Vampire Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 05:46:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8274971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseMaryImagination/pseuds/RoseMaryImagination
Summary: The vampire muses and considers.Or: Dean rejects the cure for Vampirism and runs away, probably.





	

Weird huh? Being able to feel so much but at the same time not feeling anything at all. It's like all the nerves in his body have become more sensitive, every touch feeling like a punch. If he really concentrates right now he can even hear a leaf fall off of a tree outside. If he doesn't everything becomes silent. Everything, except for the far off sounds of his brother's and grandfather's approaching heartbeats.

So this is vampirism. To be honest Dean doesn't think Edward and Bella sold it right. Because, as it turns out, it isn't all glitter and sparkles. Nope, it's more like a lot of pale faced sons of bitches killing glotter cover teens, or adults —yep, those exist to— who are pretending to be pale faced sons of bitches. Oh, and then there's the hunger. 

Before all of this happened Dean had thought going a day or two without greasy road food was bad but not having blood after just a few hours...let's just say it isn't nice. It's hell. Screw having just one burger with fries, he could eat a whole cow right now. Even a hundred pounds of raw potatoes would do. Of course those are just examples for if he where still human. But he's not. His body isn't screaming for meat, it's screaming —begging really— for blood. The thought of chugging a cow's blood sounds more appealing that feeding of it's fat and muscles. Cow blood is something he could feed of, it could certainly sustain him good enough. But that would still be a cheap carbon copy. The good stuff, what would really quench his thirst, is human blood. 

Sweet...it smells sweat, the bags of red still left in the fridge. The fragrance that comes with the red liquid leaking to the floor overpowers everything else as it pollutes the damp air of the, now, eradicated Vampire nest. Well, eradicated for all but one. He, himself, is still alive. And he is —or now more like was— a part of the nest in a messed up kind of way. The nest leader, Boris is or was his creator. His brother. Even if Dean was turned against his will. He killed his nest mates, his elders. And in doing so also killed his new, white faced, blood drinking, sharp fanged, and apparently twilight book reading, family. 

Should he feel bad about it? Or should he rejoice the fact that those monsters are now gone for good? Dean really wants to pretend it's the last of the two he's feeling and that the emptiness in his chest is only caused by his own —hopefully temporary— condition of red-fluid-thirstiness but he isn't sure. Maybe he could've let some of them go? Most of them had been newborns, only having been turned in the last weeks or so. But still they hadn't kept clean, they all had fully embraced the new powers and diet that came with the change. 

He had seen how they hungrily crowded around bags of blood in their cells, sucking through syringes. They didn't have a choice. No matter how strong your will is, bloodlust, hunger or thirst always wins in the end. Even he can feel how it's slowly scratching and clawing away at his resolve; the only thing that's keeping him from succumbing to his thirst. And for the last minute or so he hasn't been able to pull his attention away from the air, now filling his dead lungs, that he knows, if he follows, will lead him to what he needs to feel better again.

He knows he can't feed. He knows. If he gives in there's no turning back. The cure his uncle had been talking about won't work if he does, if it's even really true. 

Maybe there is no cure. 

No, that's ridiculous! Why would they lie? But when he'd been away, Sam and Samuel did become awfully good pals. Didn't they? Dean unconsciously clenches his fist around the heft of the bloody machete still held in his hand at the thought. They wouldn't...right? Granted, Sam had been acting weird ever since they reunited but that didn't mean that he would...do that.

Dean shifts his feet slightly at the sudden deafening beating of two hearts coming closer. The pumping of heavenly sweet and tasty— No! He wasn't going to go that way. He could overcome this thirst. Others had too, right? 

A soft gasp had Dean looking up and he inwardly cringes at the way his brother looks at him. On the surface it looks like worry but now he can hear Sam's heartbeat he isn't so easily fooled. His brother isn't fazed at all, his heartbeat is calm. In fact it's calmer than any heartbeat he's heard since his turn, too calm. Especially if compared to his uncle's who in contrast to his blank features is pounding two miles a minute. So his uncle's scared, huh? He should be. 

With their close proximity, Dean's thirst has tripled. The only thing keeping him from lunging at them is the knowledge of the machetes waiting in their own hands.

Dean is running out the door before either of them could react and he dissappears into a dark alley as they exit the building, flustered.

In the shadows Dean turns around for just a second to salute a quick goodbye, followed by a tooth baring grin, and then he's gone. 

Maybe he'll visit them for Thanksgiving?


End file.
